


Is This Hate or Love?

by linwendlandt11



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Family Issues, Feelings, Introspection, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linwendlandt11/pseuds/linwendlandt11
Summary: Draco hated her. Or at least that what he would tell himself to make himself feel better about loving her.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Is This Hate or Love?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little introspective drabble about Draco's feelings for Hermione. This is set sometime during their fourth year, but you can technically place it wherever you want.

He hated her. Or at least, that’s what he told himself at night when he found himself imaging a fantasy that could never be. He told himself that lie over and over again as he would close his eyes and imagine what it would be like to run his hands through her curls, or smell her skin, or hold her close, or taste her lips. He wanted to know her, to feel her, to see her in a way his father would never allow him too. 

But that could never be. And so he hated her. And he hated himself. He hated the way he was cruel to her. He hated how twisted and confusing his feelings were. He hated how she thought she was so smart and important and how much better she was than anybody else. 

But he also found himself falling in love with the little things about her. The way her nose would scrunch when she was trying to figure out a problem, or the way she would mutter under her breath as she wrote, or how her eyes would light up when she did a spell correctly or the way she could completely immerse herself into a book and ignore the world around her. 

He had been raised to hate her kind- filthy mudbloods. Raised to believe they were inferior, lesser than, weak, unfit to wield magic like the purebloods. But the more he watched her, the more he wondered if that way of thinking was flawed. She was simply brilliant with magic. Strong and capable and able to handle herself with fiery words and a fierce gaze. 

She had a quick tongue and a short temper. Passion soared through her with the way she would jump from cause to cause, subject to subject, class to class, headlong in a mad pursuit to prove herself. She never did anything halfway, always going above and beyond what was required or assigned. She never took the easy way out; never asked for help, never let others define her. 

He envied her for that. His whole life he had coasted along on the coattails and name of his family, like it was important, like it meant something, like it had power and it gave him the right to shit on everyone else beneath his shoe. He had seen the way his father treated others, and believed that was the way things were and should be. But as he grew older, he wondered and wished for a way out of the hole he had dug for himself. 

He treated others like shit to avoid dealing with his feelings. He was mean, a bully. Threw people aside like they were nothing and used whoever and whatever he needed to get ahead. It irked him to no end that no matter what he did, or how hard he worked he could never beat her. And she was just a filthy mudblood! 

No. That was his father’s thinking. Not his. But...also wasn’t it? Didn’t he call her horrible names and bully her and her friends and hate her with every fiber of his being? Or was he just pretending? Playing a role that had been assigned to him since birth? Acting the prideful arrogant son because that was all he knew. Because he loved his family and didn’t want to disappoint them. Didn’t want his picture burned out of the family tree, didn’t want to be ostracized and become more alone than he already was. 

He hated her friends and envied his lack of them. He surrounded himself with people and yet, he was always alone. Friends? What friends? Crabbe and Goyle weren’t friends. They were lackeys. Grunts to do his bidding and protect him. They didn’t care about him and he didn’t care about them. Sometimes he would gaze across the courtyard and watch her laugh aloud with her friends. People she chose to hang out with and be with. Asking for no return favors and having no implied empower balances. They just were. There was a warmth there he had been lacking his whole life. A spark that could light the burnt coals of his heart if he only reached out and asked. But he could never have friends and he could never have her. 

His father would never allow it. His family would never allow it. His House would never allow it. He was stuck and alone. Cast adrift on an island of his hatred and desire for more. Longing for the warmth of the shore and stuck with the cold of the sea. 

Perhaps one day he could break free. Perhaps one day he could bask in the sun. But until then, he would just have to sit and watch and wait. Looking and longing for her and her life from afar. 

**Author's Note:**

> I still love Ron and Hermione as a couple (so please no hating on him in the comments!) but I like shipping Hermione with Draco a lot since I am such a sucker for the Enemies to Lovers trope and I think their dynamic is really interesting. You could definitively read between the lines in the series and see that he had a crush on her and was mean to her to cover up his feelings. 
> 
> Also ef Lucius. He is a terrible father and very toxic.


End file.
